


try and survive (until it's appropriate to open wine)

by ivermectin



Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babyfic, Dan gets to keep Milo, Episode: s04e02 Double Identity, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, POV Dan Humphrey, Pining, Remix, mentions of baby spit & baby vomit (sorry dan)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivermectin/pseuds/ivermectin
Summary: Dan Humphrey’s summer is not going as he expected. Georgina’s gone, and he’s keeping one of the biggest secrets he’s ever kept. He’s acquired many new and varied skills, including but not limited to: burping babies effectively, singing lullabies while cradling babies, buying cute woollen hats for infants on the internet, living on nothing but soda and takeout, keeping sharp objects out of reach, and many more such talents he has never needed before.Thank god for Nate Archibald, hm?
Relationships: Dan Humphrey & Milo Humphrey, Nate Archibald/Dan Humphrey, Vanessa Abrams & Dan Humphrey
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	try and survive (until it's appropriate to open wine)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnCherie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnCherie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [if you know me, no you don't](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077908) by [AnnCherie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnCherie/pseuds/AnnCherie). 



> This is a remix of Anna's work, the entire thing from Dan's POV instead of Nate's <3 To keep the real same-universe feeling, some of the dialogue is the same (more about this is elaborated in the end note.) You _should_ read Anna's work to understand this version better.
> 
> The "Wow, I did not need to see or hear that" / "I'm doing the best I can" is lifted from canon. God. these BOYS.
> 
> I accidentally changed more canon - Georgina leaves a little earlier than she's supposed to have left. Hah. Whoops.
> 
> Title's an Angie D'Amato quote from Single Parents. See what I did there? ;)

Dan Humphrey’s summer is not going as he expected.

Georgina’s gone, and he’s keeping one of the biggest secrets he’s ever kept, and all he has is the baby supplies Georgie had bought, before she’d left. He’s acquired many new and varied skills, including but not limited to: burping babies effectively, singing lullabies while cradling babies, buying cute woollen hats for infants on the internet, living on nothing but soda and takeout (and the fact that Lily was his stepmother apparently meant that Dan had a trust fund right now, which is likely the only reason he was sort of managing okay), keeping sharp objects out of reach, and many more such talents he has never needed before.

So: Dan has a secret. The secret’s name is Milo Humphrey. He’s a Cancer sun, and he’s tiny, and his neck still needs to be propped up, and so far he hasn’t said anything, but he has spat and vomited on Dan multiple times. The joys of parenting, truly. But sarcasm aside, Dan doesn’t resent it, doesn’t grudge the baby anything. Milo looks at him with big, wide eyes, and fidgets as Dan rocks him in his arms, and Dan thought he’d known what it meant to be protective and to be responsible, being an elder brother, but this is so much more than that. Milo’s entire _life_ depends on Dan. It’s sort of terrifying.

At least, Dan has Nate, through it all.

When he’d seen the sonogram for the first time, he’d showed up at Nate’s place, sort of a mess, already half drunk. Getting drunk was a luxury he had that Georgina didn’t, but she’d let him do it, hell, she’d even mixed his drinks, and probably revelled in making them stronger than anything he’d have gotten himself. Dan had walked into Nate’s place, noted the absence of Chuck and the presence of a few hot women who were sprawled across the couch like they were Nate’s roommates and not, well, his one night stands, and he’d grabbed hold of Nate’s shoulders, hard, and said something incredibly incoherent about becoming a dad and being afraid. And Nate had just held him. They didn’t do hugs, not really, but Nate had held him.

And Nate had made it a point to check in on Dan all the time. At first, during Georgina’s pregnancy, it was just texts, multiple times during the day. Once Milo was born, Dan’s hands were full enough that he couldn’t really text, but every night, Nate called in without fail anyway, and Dan let himself relax, curling up on the couch or on the bed with Milo right by his side, taking the call.

“How go your sexploits?” Dan asks, and is usually rewarded with long and graphic and hilarious retellings of various girls with extra flexible joints, or incredible strength, and how sometimes things are just perfect, and other times things are just strange, extra chaotic, sex scenes like in bad television shows, all whipped cream and powdered sugar and melted chocolate, special mention to that one lady who’d misjudged where the bed was and accidentally knocked Nate over to the floor. Dan makes fun of him relentlessly, all the while missing Nate with a ferocity he didn’t even know he was capable of.

Once, he says to Nate, casually, “You should write erotica, you know.”

“What, is this doing something for you?” Nate responds, laughing.

Embarrassingly enough, it is. Maybe Dan’s just really fucking tired, but listening to Nate talk about sex feels almost better than actually having sex. Nate’s voice is warm like summer and his drawl is sweet like honey and it’s the only time during Dan’s day that he doesn’t feel out of depth and on edge.

Nate always, always, always, without fail, asks about Dan, asks about Milo. He’s interested in the tiny things, in the new baby booties Dan had ordered Milo, pastel blue with Velcro, the animal onesies that Dan’s bought, the new toys, whatever. He’s ready to hear Dan gush about the most mundane things, like how nice it feels when Milo curls his tiny hand around one of Dan’s fingers, or looks at him with sharp focus in his eyes, so alive and so alert.

Dan loves Milo, and Dan loves talking about Milo to Nate. And maybe Dan loves Nate, but he doesn’t have time to think about it; not now. He’s a single parent, he’s a single parent in secret, he can’t risk his Dad finding out. He still remembers how cold and stern Rufus had been when Dan was seventeen and Gossip Girl had posted that rumour about Serena buying a pregnancy test. Being a father at the age of twenty, that too, a single dad, is not what Rufus wanted for him, it’s not why Dan went to St Jude’s and beat himself up so hard to get into Yale; it’s practically a bullet to his academic ambitions, at least for now.

But Dan looks at Milo, asleep, and he thinks that he hasn’t lost anything, not at all.

~

Any feelings about Nate that Dan’s been actively avoiding thinking about, pushing to the back of his mind, because he’s a dad now and Nate is really all he has, the only person who knows; all of those feelings spring back up when Nate comes over to visit, a pretty girl he introduces as Juliet Sharp in tow.

It’s embarrassing enough that they catch him singing, but Dan thinks it’s worth the humiliation for the way Nate’s laughter sounds, warm and sincere, as he says, teasingly, “Wow, I did _not_ need to see or hear that.”

Dan smiles sheepishly, wills himself not to blush with every atom in his body. “I’m doing the best that I can.”

He asks Nate if he wants to hold Milo, and sees something like worry flash through Nate’s expression for a moment before Nate blinks it away. Dan hands Milo over to Nate, giving him instructions, eager for Nate to hold this baby he’s heard so much about, to finally get to know this kid.

But then Milo fidgets, which is very normal, and Juliet says something about a baby needing a woman and practically snatches Milo out of Nate’s arms, and Dan’s annoyed, because he doesn’t even know her, who does she think she is to insinuate that he’s not a good enough parent just because he’s not a woman, but he doesn’t want to be rude or bitchy to Nate, and besides, Juliet is changing Milo’s diaper, a task Dan does not envy, so he lets her go.

It’ll be good to get a moment alone with Nate, at least.

“Are you okay?” Nate asks, and then he seems to realise how redundant it is to ask, because he begins to amend his statement, but Dan cuts him off.

“Oh, this?” Dan laughs sardonically. “Absolutely not. But you know, what other choice do I have?”

 _I’m all he has,_ Dan thinks. And a little more sadly, _he’s all I have, too._

Nate tells him again to confess to Rufus and Lily, and Dan isn’t sure how to say, _you don’t get it, my dad isn’t as perfect as everyone thinks he is._ But maybe Nate does get it, because he corrects himself, suggesting hiring a babysitter or someone like that who can help.

Dan remembers the way Serena and Eric had described their childhoods, though – their nanny their primary caretaker – and he thinks, there’s no way he’s going to risk his son feeling like that, ever.

Still, Nate means well, and he’s trying to help, and it feels good, being alone with him, even though Dan just really wants Nate to hold him in his arms again, the way Nate had done when Dan had showed up at his place that first time, all drunk and worried and anxious about being a dad. Nate makes fun of him, but his eyes are kind, and he’s looking at Dan with a sort of astute keenness to him, like he’s really paying attention.

Dan, who’s spent most of his childhood having people look through him entirely, like he’s invisible, is keenly aware of the way Nate’s watching him.

The moment’s broken as Nate asks, “Have you spoken to Serena?”

Serena is the last person on Dan’s mind. Most of Dan’s friends, actually, are just not on his mind at all. He feels like explaining this is too much, feels like once one person knows, everyone will. Nate’s the one person he can trust; the dude’s never even sent a tip in to Gossip Girl. Whatever flaws Nate has, dishonesty and lack of discretion aren’t two of them.

He tells Nate he hasn’t talked to Serena, that he doesn’t want her to know about Milo. He wonders, as Nate tells him that Serena’s coming back and going to go to Columbia, whether this is Nate’s way of probing, to see whether Dan has feelings for Serena still. The more he talks about her, the more certain Dan is that this is what’s going on. Nate is clearly still in love with Serena, and he’s trying to assess where Dan stands.

Dan’s not even running in the dating game. Plus, it’s not like Serena would want to date someone who always smells like infant formula and has dark circles that would put a raccoon to shame.

He feels a bit guilty, though. He’d kissed Serena, after all. He’d kissed Serena, and wished it’d been Nate instead, and he’d watched her go, and he’d thought, _fuck, I’m the shittiest boyfriend,_ he’d thought if Vanessa decided to do a ‘Before he Cheats’ and ruin his material property he’d deserve it, probably. And then Georgina had shown up with the sonogram and Dan had thought maybe there really was something to be said about karma.

~

Vanessa shows up a little after Nate leaves, and it’s awkward. She forgives him instantly when she sees him with Milo, and Dan shows her how to hold Milo, and watches as she does, and he says, quietly, “I’m grateful you’re forgiving me for everything, even though it’s debatable, whether I even deserve it. I don’t think we should date. I haven’t been a particularly good partner to you.”

Vanessa looks at him seriously, that intent look that could be intimidating to anyone who doesn’t know her. Dan’s grown up with her, and the intimidation is practically reassuring at this point.

“Why didn’t we work out, you think?” Vanessa asks.

Dan swallows. “I think I loved you too much, but not in the way I was supposed to. You’re… Vanessa, you’re amazing. You’re one of the coolest people I know, one of my favourite people in the whole world. But I don’t think I had romantic feelings for you, and I guess I was just scared, that if we broke up, we wouldn’t be friends anymore.”

“That’s bull,” Vanessa snorts. “We’ll always be friends. And I love you too, sort of… like that? Like I want to be in your life always, and I want you to be in my life always, too. But you’re right that we didn’t work as a boyfriend and a girlfriend.”

“You know that meme, the one that says, ‘being the friend _is_ the benefit?’” Dan smiles. “That’s us.”

“You were reasonably okay in bed,” Vanessa says contemplatively. “But yeah, kind of forgettable.”

“Hey!”

~

Vanessa helps him out with Milo, as much as he lets her. He feels a bit like Milo is the only thing in his life, and is reluctant to let anyone help.

“I’m worried about you,” Vanessa tells him.

“Why would you be worried about me?” Dan asks her.

“You just look sort of sad,” Vanessa says. “Is it Serena?”

Dan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to admit it, but he knows he’ll feel better once it’s out, once he’s told someone. “It’s Nate,” he says, quietly. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

“When did this happen?” Vanessa asks curiously.

Dan shrugs, and is saved from having to answer verbally by Milo crying, probably for his bottle. Once Milo’s fed and changed, Dan says, “It’s been ongoing for a while, if I’m honest. Maybe ever since college? He’s always gone out of his way to make me feel less alone.”

“I would say, yeah, Nate does that,” Vanessa says, “but honestly? I don’t think he’s ever done that quite as much for anyone who isn’t you.”

Dan looks at her, barely daring to hope. “Do you think…”

“You have a chance?” Vanessa smiles. “Yeah, possibly. Assuming he’s not put off by the way you smell like a nurse who specialises in infant care.”

 _Fuck you_ , Dan mouths, not particularly wanting to risk Milo hearing it, even though Milo’s not old enough to really talk. It’s the little things; he doesn’t want his son’s first word to be ‘fuck,’ though Jenny would definitely find that hilarious.

~

Vanessa calls him later, after two days of hanging out with Nate and Juliet in the loft; two days that’d felt oddly surreal and strange, having them all in his space. He doesn’t pick up, as he’s in the middle of giving Milo a bath, but she leaves him voicemail he listens to right after, and it makes Dan feel like his world is shattering to pieces around him.

“Nate says you said you’re still in love with me and you want us to date,” Vanessa’s message starts. “Sounds a bit odd, right? I mean, you and I both already had that conversation wherein we vetoed it. Any idea why Nate would lie?”

Dan messages Vanessa, _no clue, gonna investigate_ , and then, in the same breath, texts Nate, _I know what you told Vanessa._

Simple, ominous, to the point.

There’s no response, and Dan sighs. He hadn’t expected there to be one; he hadn’t expected anything. Milo, at least, is asleep in his crib, hands clutching at the little lion stuffed toy Vanessa had gotten him.

Which is why Dan is surprised when he hears the key turning in the lock, and walks over to the door to see Nate there.

He’d been expecting Vanessa, or someone else. Anyone else, just not Nate Archibald.

Nate, at least, knows he’s done something wrong and isn’t trying to shirk responsibility. “Let me explain,” he says, and goes on to say, “You two spent the whole day alone together and seemed like you were connecting –”

Dan hushes him urgently, taking Nate by the elbow, pulling him in, closing the loft door, and arguing in an angry whisper.

“We weren’t alone, we were with you and Juliet.”

“Why are we whispering?” Nate is adorably confused, and Dan hates this; hates that he’s so angry with Nate but still really wants Nate’s arms around him, still wants Nate’s friendship and support and care.

“Milo is sleeping for once,” Dan says, and, softly, but bitterly, he says, “Why did you lie about me?”

“Was it a lie?” Nate’s tone is completely unreadable, for once. Dan has no idea what he’s thinking.

There’s only one possible explanation, Dan thinks. He remembers the conversation they’d had a few days ago, Nate talking about Serena while Dan just tried to follow the conversation, unsure why they were even going there.

“Is this about Serena?” Dan pauses, sees something like guilt in Nate’s expression. “It is, isn’t it.”

“I wouldn’t have even said anything if you hadn’t lied about getting that text from her!” Nate says defensively.

Dan frowns, confused. He can’t even _remember_ the last time he’d spoken to Serena. “What text?”

“I –” Nate falters, looking like something has just occurred to him. “When was the last time you checked your phone?”

That hurts, a lot more than it should. The knowledge that Nate – honest, trustworthy, reliable Nate – has been checking his phone. “Obviously not as recently as you have.”

“I’m sorry, Dan. I saw the text and I –”

Dan is not interested in listening to any more of this. He interrupts, “You’re sorry. I know.”

“Honestly, I don’t even know how I feel about Serena, I just…” Nate is ill at ease, clearly uncomfortable, and Dan can’t really be upset with him anymore, not when he looks so obviously devastated. 

“You don’t have to say it,” Dan says. He looks at Nate, gives him half a smile, wishes he could convey with solidity just how okay everything is.

“I think I do,” Nate says, as serious as he would be at someone’s funeral. It makes Dan feel an odd twinge in his chest, seeing Nate being so rigid and stiff, so worried. “You’ve been there for me through all of last year, and – ”

“And I kissed Serena when you two were dating,” Dan points out. He’s no saint either, and feelings of hurt aside, he knows he has no right to be outraged. “I honestly probably deserved something.”

Nate still looks uncertain, so Dan tries to help by talking about Serena.

“Look, if anyone understands the craziness involved with having feelings for her it’s me.”

Saying it hurts, because it’s not true, not anymore. It would’ve been true, until a point. Dan still remembers senior year, remembers the string of breakups and getting back together he and Serena had, like notches on a bedpost. He remembers writing their names in his algebra textbook in a little heart, remembers daydreaming about marrying her one day, even.

And he no longer feels like that. At least, not about Serena.

“That’s not what it was about.” Nate sounds the way Dan feels; frustrated, hurt, fuck, maybe even _repressed._ He tries to take it back, but Dan isn’t having it.

“What was it then?” Dan asks, confused, and a little concerned. “Georgina?”

“No, of course not!” Nate denies vehemently enough that it’s clearly the truth.

“Then what, Nate?” Dan frowns, watching as Nate doesn’t say anything, barely even moves, frozen in place.

Finally, Nate exhales deeply, looks away. “Can we just pretend I said nothing and I’ll owe you a favour?”

“Do I look like Blair Waldorf?” Dan asks, annoyed. He’s willing to handle anything, to stand with Nate through anything, and this feels a lot like Nate doesn’t trust him, and is actively keeping something from him, and it feels shitty. Dan doesn’t like this feeling of not knowing what’s going on.

“Nate, whatever it is just tell me. Nothing’s going to be crazier than finding out Georgina and I made a child together,” Dan says, a little more gently but no less firmly.

“Wanna bet?” Nate asks, smiling in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Dan is suddenly, abruptly, startlingly worried for him. His mind flashes through all the worst case scenarios; Nate’s awful family, some sort of scandal, someone blackmailing him, Nate being in danger, something terrible like that.

Maybe Nate can read it in Dan’s expression, because he moves swiftly. Dan can never forget that Nate plays lacrosse and soccer and played track and football and baseball and – everything really. Nate’s got the body of an athlete, and right now, he shifts into Dan’s space, kissing him suddenly, but firmly, with deliberation.

Like he’s been wanting to do that for a long time.

Dan’s so startled he doesn’t even kiss back, just shifting away and looking at Nate, confused. Nate’s hands are still holding onto Dan’s arms, and they’re close enough that if Dan leaned forward just a little, they’d end up kissing again.

Dan’s so confused that he just says the first thing that comes to mind. “Nate... I’m pretty sure I’m not in Chuck’s book either.”

“Not quite.” Nate says, which doesn’t make any sense, but is oddly reassuring, as if this kiss is as revolutionary for Nate as it is for Dan. Nate goes on somewhat redundantly, saying, “Also, before you try and say it again, this isn’t about Serena.”

“I think I know you better than that.” Dan says quietly, feeling a little more certain of what is happening, even if it still feels surreal. He goes on, as if saying it aloud will help him process it, “And I know you well enough to know you’re too good at being a chameleon to your surroundings. I just didn’t know…”

“This?” Nate says, giving Dan a little smile. “Yeah, me either.”

Dan takes a moment to look away, taking a shaky breath. The bedroom is still quiet, Milo is still asleep, but Dan’s heart in his chest is pounding like the drums in a heavy metal band. He can’t believe this is happening; Vanessa’s guess being on the money is not surprising, but Nate actually wanting to kiss him is.

He can’t help but ask, “Why me?”

“Because you’re the kind of man who would drop everything he wanted in life just to take care of a child you never expected,” Nate says, and Dan looks at him, hearing everything Nate isn’t saying, about his own parents, about what Nate really values in him. “Because even the Upper East Side couldn’t change that, when it really came down to it, you were a good person. You care about people and you prove it.”

It’s too much. In order to ensure he doesn’t do something embarrassing like cry, Dan says, teasingly, “Nothing about my charming good looks?”

Nate laughs, but he sounds uncertain, still, and Dan hates that, hates that tone in his voice. “Come on, seriously – ”

“I guess we can try serious.” Dan interrupts, and then they’re kissing again.

They kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss until Milo’s screaming interrupts them, and they both exchange a look and laugh softly. Dan goes to check on him, and when he comes back, holding Milo, it’s to see Nate texting someone.

“Sending a blast to Gossip Girl?” Dan asks, teasing.

“No, you know I’d never,” Nate says, giving Dan a pleasant smile, while his eyes are full of mischief. “Messaging Juliet and telling her we’re over.”

“You’re breaking up over text? Harsh,” Dan says, but a petty part of him feels sort of good about that, actually.

“I don’t know,” Nate says. “I feel like she never saw who I really was, you know? She just saw what she wanted to see, and she was using me all this while. So, yeah, I’m breaking up with her over text.”

The line of his mouth is firm, and Dan kisses the side of his mouth, to get the serious expression to go away.

“I’m sure it’s clear how I feel about that,” Dan says, quietly, but he can’t stop himself from smiling. “Now I get you all to myself.”

“Dude, you’re still holding your son,” Nate says, but he doesn’t sound even slightly offended, and he’s offering his finger to Milo to hold, beaming delightedly when Milo does. “How come you get me all to yourself while I have to share you with an infant?”

“Sucks to be you, Archibald,” Dan says, laughing. “C’est la vie.”

“That is _not_ how you pronounce it,” Nate insists. But he’s laughing, too. 

Dan leans forward, still holding Milo, pressing his head against Nate’s shoulder, careful not to put pressure on Milo. Nate’s arms wrap around them, his hands pressing against Dan’s lower back.

Dan is exactly where he needs to be. He wants to tell Nate that he loves him, but it’s far too soon. It doesn’t matter, though. They have time. They have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> dialogues originally written by Anna: when Juliet & Nate show up at Brooklyn, the conversation between Dan and Nate, Dan's text to Nate about knowing what he said to Vanessa, and most notably, the scene where Nate comes to Brooklyn to fess up at the very end, and they talk about why he lied - dialogues from "Let me explain" all the way to "I guess we can try serious." 
> 
> It's just the dialogues; the adjectives and description around them are entirely different. READ THEIR WORK, SERIOUSLY.


End file.
